


Civilised Behaviour

by Leyenn



Series: Dreams of Honest Horn [4]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s0104 Code of Honor, F/M, Imzadi, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, oh my god so canon compliant it's insane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 08:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: Code of Honor.While they'd both prefer it with a lot less kidnapping, it's a relief to have a mission where they can just work together.





	Civilised Behaviour

It's about three months since Deanna crashed back into his life that he finds himself sitting on her couch with a PADD in one hand and a lukewarm coffee in the other, his boots kicked off under her table, arguing the finer points of Ligonian societal structure in a conversation that's half Standard and half colloquial Cyndri as she sketches thoughts in the air between them - and suddenly he feels a mad grin on his face and Deanna, just as suddenly, laughs out loud. 

It's  _comfortable_ , exactly the way it used to be between them, and it releases a tension he didn't even know either of them were feeling. 

"I'm glad we're here," he says honestly, because it's true. Already he can't imagine anyone else as his Counselor. 

Deanna smiles. Affection shines in her eyes, and he's sure it's only a reflection of his own. 

"Me too." She puts down her PADD. "More coffee?" 

He grins wider. "Bring it on." 

 

* 

 

That feeling comes back to him in the turbolift, trading off explaining the Ligonian culture to the Captain, and it's hard to make it leave when Deanna falls into step beside him at Picard's back like they've never been out of sync. 

Oh, he remembers thinking about it when she applied to Starfleet - what it would be like to work together, not just on the same ship but as colleagues, to have all of her intelligence and talent and passion at his side every day. It's the flip side of all his fears of being tied down, of seeing her in danger or playing life safe because of her - everything that seemed so huge and insurmountable when he was alone, and now seems more intangible every day. 

 _I could get used to this_. He's not really thinking it at her, but he's not surprised when he looks to see a small smile on her lips, anyway. 

 

* 

 

The Captain suggests she and Will demonstrate the holodeck and Will immediately stretches a thought toward her, like he's opened his mouth to speak - they'll need to agree an appropriate program - when Lutan says; 

"Would it be possible for Lieutenant Yar to do so, Captain? Some demonstration of defence training?" 

Concern blankets the room. Will's is foremost to her senses, but there's a spike from the Captain, too, and from Tasha a mix of that and… pride, confusion, a hint of physical attraction like a faint flame lighting up the rest of her emotions. 

"We've noticed you're intrigued with her having security responsibilities," Will says. He's being carefully formal, she can feel the control under the surface of his mind and hear it in his tone; it reminds her faintly of having him at her side back home. "But these things are not at all unusual with us." 

Hagon frowns. "With us it is the duty of women only to own the land. And the duty of men to protect and rule it." 

Will is thinking so clearly of the more enlightened approach of Betazed that she can't quite help a smile as she replies, trying to smooth over the tension in the room, "Much the same has happened in Human history, too." 

She knows Tasha's going to accept the request when resolve - pride, confidence, that hint of attraction - pulses close by, even before Tasha says, "I'd like to do it, sir. As a sign of respect, perhaps." 

She watches Lutan and Hagon as they follow Tasha out. A new species, a different kind of mind - even one so ritualised, it's hard for her to pin down until she's got a frame of reference, but there's something there she can't quite put a name to… 

At least the look that Will shares with the Captain tells her that she might not be the only one. 

 

* 

 

He knows something's gone wrong when shock, angry and violent, rockets up his spine even though he's just sitting calmly in the captain's chair. A moment later Picard's voice comes through announcing the red alert, and all hell breaks loose. 

 

* 

 

Data doesn't make small talk as they work. He doesn't make those thoughtful noises or shifts in his seat that most vocal species do, particularly Humans. He doesn't twitch or fidget, doesn't hum or read aloud to himself or even, really, engage in conversation - Will supposes an android probably doesn't need to clarify or learn through discussion as much as an organic mind, or perhaps Data just isn't programmed that way. 

Regardless of why, it reminds him distinctly of the Library of Betazed: of sitting beside Deanna in the familiar audio silence of a working room just like this, filling out reports while she wrote her thesis, the light touch of their minds tangled at the edges enough to make it comfortable instead of stifling for a Human mind. 

He learned more about how to be patient, and quiet, and calm, from sitting beside Deanna in that library than he ever has from anyone else. 

The memory isn't as clearly  _them_ for her - she's spent most of her life studying like this, after all - but he can tell it's still a pleasant familiarity. He gets a hint of wistful gratitude, and realises: she's been away from home for years now, and she's missed having moments like this. 

Maybe that's what makes them both fall back into it so easily.  

 _Pass me the sociological study from sixty-one?_  

Deanna pushes another PADD across to him without looking up from her own. He sends a sense of thanks back to her and flips up to the index. 

 

* 

 

 _I thought I read-_  

 _In this one,_ with a gentle balm in her touch to sooth his momentary frustration, and she marks something on her screen with a fingertip. A moment later and the passage he's been looking for pops up on his own PADD. 

 

* 

 

 _Does this remind you of -_  

She thumbs metaphorically through her memory, matching up the ritual sketched in Will's head and the sense of vague familiarity he's trying to place. 

 _T'Vor's class on cross-cultural relations?_  

His  _thanks_  is full of exultant relief, already grabbing for a spare PADD.  _That old Vulcan must have written a few papers on this stuff._  

She smiles and stands up to get them another round of drinks.  

 

* 

 

He's just put their late lunch down for Deanna, beside her elbow where she'll naturally reach for it as she works, when Data looks up. 

"Commander. May I make an enquiry?" 

He slides back into his chair and pulls his own plate towards him. "Of course, Data." 

"I have gathered sufficient observational evidence to suggest that you are communicating with Counselor Troi on a sub-vocal level, and yet I have been unable to apply my current knowledge of typical Human body language to determine how you are able to infer such precise requests as dietary requirements." 

He feels Deanna looking at him and shoots her a grin. "I'm sure there was a question in there somewhere." 

"Indeed, sir." Data cocks his head. "I have observed that Humans do not often work in silence as I do. Yet you have spoken precisely sixteen words to each other in the six hours since we began reviewing the Ligonian studies. I have also observed twenty-two distinct interactions between you that suggest a conversation is occurring. In addition, you have served each other both beverages and food during that time, without apparent request. I have hypothesised that you are communicating telepathically, despite there being no record of such an ability in your own public file. Am I incorrect?" 

"It's considered polite to get other people drinks when you get your own, Data." He gestures back across the table. "If they drink, of course." 

"But, Commander, your behaviour does not indicate adherence to simple politeness. For example: at oh-seven-fourteen, you served both yourself and Counselor Troi with coffee without discussion. Your own was black, while Counselor Troi's contained cinnamon flavoring, which she clearly enjoyed and yet had not requested. Then, at ten-twenty-two, Counselor Troi reciprocated by serving you with apple juice, blend number seventeen, but did not retrieve her own beverage for another thirty-seven minutes. And forty minutes ago-" 

"Enough, Data." Deanna's voice is full of the amusement/surprise/chagrin he can feel in her mind and his own. He wonders if they're being as obvious to anyone who isn't an android.  

"But, Counselor. I do not understand. Does Commander Riker belong to you?" 

It's a good thing his fork is only halfway to his mouth, because he needs to eat and figure the Ligonians out and save Tasha and get the vaccine, and  _not_  choke to death right here at this conference table. 

Laughter dances through his head, sparkling and bright, and Deanna doesn't hide it in her voice either. "What makes you ask that, Data?" 

"It is highly unlikely that telepathy between a Betazoid hybrid and a Human could result from anything other than a complete mental bonding. As the traditional Betazoid bonding places any involved males in the subordinate position-" 

"Okay, okay." He holds up his hands in surrender and tries to ignore what  _subordinate position_ brings to mind - his and Deanna's. "Look, Data, it's… not as simple as that, but… yes. I mean, no. You're not incorrect." 

"Please explain." 

Deanna looks at him openly. There's no point in anything else.  _He's not going to give up, you know._  

 _I don't want to have this conversation with someone else._ Because it may have been three months, and they might be settled into a working routine, but they haven't really talked about  _it_ at all. 

About the fact that he left. That he was afraid, that he's still afraid, to accept what it means to be bonded to her completely. That he wants a starship, and belonging to the Fifth House isn't going to help put him on any shortlists, and three years haven't changed that.  

That he chose to put Starfleet first and they might both be here and comfortable now - she might have chosen to forgive him - but that doesn't mean he can go back and change that choice or what it did to her. To both of them. 

Deanna breaks her gaze from his and offers Data a game smile. "Some things are just a little too hard to put into words, Data. Have you found anything useful in the briefing studies?" 

Thankfully that's all it takes to divert an android back onto topic and trigger a monologue on the similarities between Ligon and ancient China, personal discussions seemingly forgotten. By Data, at least, because Deanna gently tangles a thought with his as Data talks.  

 _Soon, Will._ There's apology in the words, and he gently rejects it out of hand.  

 _When you're ready._ He's made enough decisions that only ever screwed things up between them; this one's for her to make. They're building something new here, maybe even stronger for standing on the ruins of what they had before, and if she's waiting for a firmer foundation before trying to drain those wounds then he thinks she's got the right idea. 

 

* 

 

Data finishes up their initial report with, "that is from an obscure language known as French," and Deanna might have her back to the Captain but she hardly needs to see the look on his face to know his reaction. 

For a few seconds she looks absolutely everywhere except at Will - because if she lets him look her in the eyes, she might just let out the laughter he's also trying to hold in - until his gaze catches on hers by accident and his grin reminds her so strongly of the brash young Lieutenant he used to be that she can't keep the smile from her lips even as she glances away.  

"I suggest you drop it, Mister Data," Will says, catching her gaze and holding it this time even though he's biting his cheek to keep from laughing.  

She does the same and wonders if anyone other than Data can see how transparent they are. 

 

* 

 

She calls him, "Commander," and he blinks. It sounds so odd coming from her and he's glad her tone is light, if serious, because he thinks it could actually hurt if she were more curt about it. 

"'Commander'?" He leans toward her mind but she's put up a light but definite shield; it's that as much as his rank on her lips that makes him look at her in surprise, as much that that he means when he says, "That's quite formal." 

"So is this request, sir," she says, and so he listens. He's not happy about it, but Deanna's always known how to beat him in a logical argument. 

Still: he catches her wrist, just lightly, as she stands to follow Picard onto the turbolift. 

"And if  _you_  get hurt…" 

Deanna smiles, and the way she leans into his mind is clearer, more reassuring, than anything physical.  

"We'll both be fine, Will. I'll call you when we know more."   

It's easier than he used to imagine it would be, to let her go. 

 

* 

 

"* _A what?!*_ " 

"A challenge to the death. We don't know much more than that yet." 

Even from this far she can  _feel_  his sigh. "* _How do we get into these things?*_ " 

She smiles, even though he won't see it, and dares herself to say, "Well, you're the one who chose Starfleet." 

To her relief, Will chuckles. " _*Touché. How's the Captain?*_ " 

"Frustrated. Feeling helpless. But we've been treated very well," because she knows that's what he's really asking.  

At least he relaxes a little at that. " _*At least I've got you_ _down there_ _looking out for him.*_ " 

She smiles fondly. "I'm not sure he's expecting me to play his First Officer, Will." 

" _*I think his Counselor will be enough.*_ " She can hear him smiling, too. 

"I'll try." 

 

* 

 

He never had any doubts in Tasha's combat skills, but he can't say he doesn't feel a vast relief when the Captain and Deanna appear safely back on the bridge, even with Lutan and Hagon in tow.  

Deanna steps down to re-join him as the Captain leads the Ligonians into the observation lounge, and he affords her a welcoming smile as she settles into her seat.  

"Good to have you home." With the Captain off the bridge it's his right to take the center chair, and being that much closer to her has nothing to do with it at all. 

"Thank you." Deanna's answering smile is polite, and warm, and just on the right side of professional. Her thoughts sliding into his match one out of three, at least.  

 _Home. I like that._  

He grins, realising along with her that it's the first time he's called it that - this ship, this crew, this still-nebulous thing between them.  _Me too._  

 

** 

 


End file.
